Guiding Way
by Lady Venom2
Summary: Before the infection hit, Francis and Nick were a part of the Hells Legion.  This is a story of their time together and what happened that caused them both to be sent to prison.  Not necessarily slash, but it has moments.
1. Chapter 1

_Note: Vulgar language warning (C'mon it's Francis and Nick, it'd be weird for them not to curse up a storm.) Also, some of the words in this are words that the characters use that we felt they would, not words that reflect our own opinions. __There will be sex in this, but it won't be posted here, if anyone will want to see it in later chapters, ask me about it and I'll see about posting my Y!Gallery name or something._

_Lastly! This is __**Pre- Infection**Nick and Francis, explaining their time in prison and how they knew each other and interacted._

Please understand that this was an RP between myself and another individual, and due to it, that's why the paragraphs are smaller.

_Hope you enjoy!_

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><p>The bouncer had it coming to him; he knew the rules and the penalty for breaking them. It was simple as that, just business.<p>

It was always business.

The alleyway was slippery, full of murky puddles and the sky was still deciding on if it should clear up or let loose again. Either way, Nick was tired of the god damned mist. The guy gave out a cry, trying to pull himself away from his assailant.

Francis looked over, smirking.

"What was that?" he asked. He looked back over at his partner, thumbing back to their victim.

"You went easy on the little shit!"

Hearing the man once more, he looked over his shoulder once again. _Fuckin' pussy. _Nick looked back at the man crawling along the dirty, broken pavement, moaning.

"We need him to survive this Francis, or did you forget that little detail?" He took a drag of the cigarette.

"Dead, alive. Message still sent. I don't see _why_we have to let the fucking bitch live." He groused.

"Because he knows if he goes to the cops, he's a dead man, so's his family." Nick turned; making sure the injured man heard him.

"Worth giving him a chance, don't you think?" He walked over to the vested man, patting him on the shoulder, knocking ashes off beside their shoes.

"Come on, let's go check out the club over on Fifth, I hear they've got some good dancers up tonight." He offered.

"They best be made out of pure gold to make me want to give this up." He replied, walking along side Nick.

Admittedly, he'd moved up swiftly in the ranks of Hell's Legion. Normally, the slick ones didn't enjoy getting their hands dirty. He had to admire that about him. If only barely. Turning to the man, he lightly tapped his side with a foot, grinning.

_It'd feel so good just to kick him._

"Hey, c'mon." He called back, turning when he realized Francis wasn't beside him.

"Thought you'd be wanting to see some new meat?" He raised an eyebrow, taking a deep drag of the cigarette, watching Francis eye the guy nearly passing out on the pavement.

"You're lucky my pal here knows how to sweet-talk me."

He spat near the man's face before walking towards Nick once more.

"So, you're buying again right?" he asked, seeming not to mind the rain.

Nick snorted slightly.

"Tell me why I always end up footing the tab when I know you're good on the cash?" He flicked the butt away after one last drag.

"Because I have other commitments named Sarah, Jane and Whiskey." Francis grinned. "And sometimes San Jose."

Nick rolled his eyes.

"One of these days you're going to be the one buying me drinks. You've got to be the worst date I've ever had, you drink and eat me out of my wallet and then ogle the women and ignore me." He grumbled, though with a sarcastic lilt to his voice.

Francis frowned, looking over at Nick.

"Fuck you, man. I've seen you leaving with three women! So _who's_ignoring who?" he asked.

Nick laughed.

"By that time you're so drunk off your ass I'd be surprised you even knew how to find your own dick!"

The rain started to come down harder, then.

"Ah, shit!"

Flipping up the collar on his jacket, Nick cursed loudly, starting to dash towards the club half a block over.

"Fuckfuckfuck! I hate the rain!"

After the bouncer let them inside, Nick glanced around, the club was mildly packed. Enough to blend in, but not enough to be crowded.

"There, satisfied?" He asked, looking over to Francis, who already seem happily taken with one of the dancers

"What _wasn't_I satisfied about?" he asked, as a means to say he'd already forgotten about it.

And in some chances, he probably had. He sat down at a table, ordering a drink from a wandering waitress as he did so.  
>Joining him, Nick tried to shake out the remaining water from his jacket as he looked stage wise, placing an order himself towards the waitress.<br>The woman on stage was moving her hips fluidly along with the music before she just bowed down low, hand running up her straight legs, looking back at the audience. A coy smile on her lips, she was pale skinned beauty with dark hair and darker eyes. Soon enough, she was standing up once more, grabbing the pole and hoisting herself up onto it, spinning downwards.

One of her partners onstage did something similar, only coming spiralling downwards while upside down. Hispanic with purple hair and brown eyes; a spunky girl. Or, that was the role she played. Looking over at Francis, then back at the stage he shook his head. It only ever took a pretty smile and he was gone. When the waitress brought over their drinks, Nick sipped his, wishing his suit wasn't so damn damp in such a cool spot. Looking at his wrist he checked the time.

_Fuck, I'll hear it from Beth later..._

After a moment of thought on it, he realized he really couldn't care less about it, and settled back into his chair to enjoy the show.

"Now there... is some God damned beauty." Francis commented, sitting back in his chair as well, sipping on his beer. His legs knees were spread comfortably, a tattooed elbow on the table. It was a good sign he was relaxing and about to have a good time.

Or eventually get rowdy and start a fight.

It was always hard to tell with Francis, since most times a good, relaxing evening included a fight.

"M'mm..."

Sipping his whiskey, he watched the dancers thinking he'd seen better, but that it was best not the tell Francis that.

_These type of places never have a good pool room... _He thought sadly.

As one of the dancers strolled up to the edge of the stage, Francis gave out a hoot of appreciation, which turned into some laughter.

_Fuck, I'm wired. I gotta bang someone or draw some blood. _Taking a large swig from his bottle, he'd nearly finished it.

Looking back up at the dancers, Nick raised an eyebrow at the moves, enjoying them but figuring it was Francis who was relishing the moves more than anyone else. Taking a glance at his compatriot, he sipped his whiskey, the ice clinking against the chilled glass.

"Enjoying the show?" He asked, mildly amused.

"How could a man _not?"_he asked, as though the idea was the most ridiculous thing he'd heard that night.

"The women are beautiful. They're supple, friendly... it's _art."_He gave Nick a glance over.

"The only way you couldn't enjoy this is if you were some pussy-whipped gay man."

..Never mind his choice in words.

"Art..." He repeated, looking between Francis and the dancing women.

"Looks more like a good show of T&A to me." He replied, finishing his drink and waving a waitress over for a refill.

"Still art." He argued, though lightly. The single beer hadn't hit him, obviously.

"Beautiful women are art." he said, pointedly. "They may be a bit more...slutty than the rest, but still."

He finished his beer, now waiting for the waitress to come back around again.

"Well, it figures that's how you'd like them." Nick retorted dryly, looking over to Francis with a raised eyebrow.

The waitress brought over their drinks, waiting for Nick to pay her off.

He wondered absently how long it would take for Francis to start a fight, or hit on a dancer.

"What the fuck's that supposed to mean?" he asked, keeping his eyes on the women on stage.

"Don't tell me that you think _anyone_could do that." He gestured upwards towards a dancer doing her thing on a pole.

"No, I didn't say that..."

He sipped his fresh drink quietly, watching the dancers.

"I'm just saying that it doesn't surprise me that you find these particular women enjoyable, makes sense what with your track record with women." He amended.

To Francis, it still sounded like a hit.

"Well excuse me if I enjoy them a bit more real than you." He snarked, taking a drink of his fresh beer.

His mood was turning sour quickly. Perhaps because he _wasn't _able to put a beat down for once.

Nick laughed loudly, indicating the woman closest to them dancing.

"You think _that's_real?" He asked, amused.

"Yeah! What makes you think she's not?" he asked, looking at the third dancer. An African-American with dark, curly hair and pale grey eyes. She gave Nick a quite genuine smile before going down to the stage.

"Oh I don't know... the fact that the breasts defy gravity?" He asked, chuckling.

He grinned up at the new dancer, eyeing her.

_M'mm..._

"Fuck you."

He took a larger gulp, reaching into his back pocket for his wallet, opening it up.

"Which one?" He asked then, looking over at Nick.

Looking on stage, he shrugged. Not really in the mood for any dances, but his blood was still pumping after the event from earlier. He just sipped his drink. "Next time, not in the mood tonight."

"After whining outside, you're turning it down?" He asked, a look of disbelief on his face.

"Have you not _seen_these women?" He gestured up, sitting forward a bit more. He then sat back once again, lowering his arm.

"Fuckin' homo."

Rolling his eyes, he gave a small grumble himself, shaking his head.

"Unlike other people, I don't _need_to pay women to get them." He retorted sharply.

"It's a dance, not a whore!" He argued.

_I hate when he gets like this. Ruins my fucking night. Pansy. _Grumbling something under his breath, he took out some bills and shoved his wallet back into his pocket. Hailing down the waitress once again, he ordered three shots. Pissed enough to pay for his drinks.

Standing up, Nick followed the waitress to the bar, carefully manoeuvring around the patrons milling about. While she fixed the shots, he chatted with her, apologising for any rude behaviour on Francis's part.

_I still don't need to pay for someone to sit on my lap._

Francis tore his eyes away from the dancers, noticing Nick leaving his seat. He frowned, watching the girl shrug, reply with a smile before laughing.

_Won`t buy a dance but he'll talk up the waitress? Cocksucking prick._

After a few minutes, shots sitting almost forgotten for the moment, he laid his hand gently on her lower back, smiling over something she said. Another minute later and he was bringing over the shots Francis had ordered, a napkin sticking out of his pocket with the waitress's number written on it. Sitting down, he just smirked over at Francis, handing him the shots.

Francis was pissed. It was on his face, in his demeanour and how he downed the first shot straight, no salt or lemon.

"The FUCK was that?"

Nick just shrugged his shoulder, the smirk growing.

"That was just a friendly conversation, that's all." He slid his gaze over to Francis, enjoying how upset he was getting over a simple phone number.

"You were playing her!" he shouted over the music. On stage, one of the dancer's gazes lingered on the two of them briefly.

Giving a low dip of her chin before twirling, she'd signalled a bouncer about a worrisome possibility.

"Fuck. Every time!"

Laughing he shook his head.

"I wasn't playing anyone, you're just pissed off that I actually get women, and keep them, if I want to." He flicked Francis's bicep, showcasing several long gone names.

Jaw setting, his eyes flashed dangerously. "Back the fuck off of those. You couldn't actually keep a broad, face it!"

"Last time I checked, I had one, and have had one for the last year." He retorted, taking one of the other man's shots, slugging it back just to antagonize him further.

"Says you. Reason you moved here again was why?" He asked, trying hard not to just go over the table at him.

Instead, he took his last shot.

"Not for the reason's _you_think of." He retorted.

Settling back into his chair, he smiled at the waitress from earlier when she passed by, getting one in return with a lingering gaze.

Francis reached over, quickly cuffing the back of Nick's head.

"She's fuckin' the milk man."

Spilling some of the drink he was sipping as he watched the waitress, he wiped his mouth and chin clean, glaring over at Francis.

"I think your confusing Beth with your mother again." He retorted.

The waitress gave out a bit of a soft laugh, trying to hold it back before turning away to serve some other customers.

"Leave my mother out of this."

While it was just a little cuff, he suddenly felt profoundly better.

"Besides. You're fuckin' _married."_

Never actually caring whether Nick was faithful or not, he just liked point those things out. The waitress walked past while hearing that, giving Nick another glance; not so friendly.

Francis smirked.

Catching the look from the waitress, Nick turned angrily back to Francis. "Shut the fuck up, why the hell do you even care? Last time _I _checked, you weren't all that faithful with your women either." He retorted.

"I was when I was with 'em." He shrugged. "Maybe not when I worked but that's part of the job."

He flashed a 'chipper' grin.

"If you're so fuckin' pissed...go talk to her. It's the only thing you're good for!"

"I will when she isn't busy, maybe I'll even get her number too!" He nodded towards the dancer Francis had been eyeing.

"Think she'd rather be with someone who understands the concept of water and soap."

Francis stood up, hands on the table as he leaned towards Nick. "...I had a shower this morning." He said lowly, enough for Nick to hear.

"Stay the fuck away from her." He straightened up, stalking towards the bar, knocking into another person while doing so.

"Hey man! Watch it!"

"Fuck you, shrimp."

The guy was probably around twenty-two, wearing baggy pants, a tank and a shirt over it. He was a bit lanky, but the look worked for him.

_Here we go..._Nick quickly finished the rest of his glass, waiting for the evitable fight that would happen when he saw the younger guy swaggering back over to Francis. _Well, it was fun while it lasted..._

Two retorts between Francis and the kid before the guy threw a punch at the heavily tattoo'd man. Francis, for his part looked caught between being amused and unimpressed.

In the end, he just grinned as he caught the 'kid's' fist, using the momentum to throw him. Right into a table full of other men. The table flipped over, drinks flying as the men jumped back, backing into others, knocking over a waitress in the process.

They all eyed the kid, then Francis, shouting at him. Nick just paused in the background, waiting to see how this would all turn out. Francis actually looked a bit worried for the waitress, but that was quickly erased when he heard the shouting.

"Self defense!" he yelled back, arms held outwards as though the argument actually meant anything. Turning away, he stood at the bar. "I'll have three more tequila shots. No lemon, no salt."

One of the guys stormed over, laying a heavy hand on Francis's shoulder, spinning him around. As he turned, the guy's fist connected with Francis's face. Francis' head twisted with the force of it. Straightening up, he looked back over to the guy; face already bruising. He swiftly returned a punch to the guy's stomach, pressing upwards as he did so. As the fight progressed, Nick tried to see how long Francis could keep it going on his own, but it wasn't long before the original offender and the table of guys joined in. Groaning, Nick hurried over. Pulling a guy off of Francis, he tossed him into the bar, throwing a punch to his jaw before turning back around to help some more.

By this time, the dancers had stopped, trying hard to keep away from the 'action.' The waitress Nick was talking with earlier set down some drinks for a table away from the fight, turning and watching herself.

Francis gave out a laugh, elbowing one guy in the head before bringing his foot up to kick away another. The bar staff had long since backed up; someone on the phone while the bouncers came over to try to break things up. It didn't help things when Francis hauled off and punched one of them in the nose.

"Francis, the cops are gonna be showing up soon!" He yelled, kneeing the other bouncer, knocking up aside when he doubled over.

"Fuck! I was just-" he coughed when a punch connected with his own stomach, another fist connecting with his head; blood spurting out of his mouth.

"Yeah you were just leaving!" He yelled again, grabbing Francis by the vest and hauling him toward a back door behind the bar.

"Get your hands off me!" He shook himself away from Nick as they rushed back out into the rain.

It was still pouring heavily as they beat down the sidewalk, a few pissed off patrons filing out to give chase.

At least the number had been drastically cut down.

"Down this way!" He called over to him, trying to evade them in the rain.

It wasn't that he wouldn't have minded finishing the fight, but the last thing he wanted to do was slow down enough to give the cops time to catch up to them. Yells from behind as Francis ran around the corner into the alley. At least it wasn't blocked at the end of it.

"Fucker just insulted my mother!" Francis slowed, turning to head back.

"I fucking insult her on a daily basis! Know why? Cause she deserves it!" He yelled back at him, continuing on down the alley way.

"You wanna move your slow ass or what?"

He felt his ears heat at that as he turned back, now making a run right for Nick.

He'd had it, really. All those pot-shots towards his hygiene, charisma and his mother in a single night.

His little victory forgotten, he wanted to see Nick in pain.

Turning back, hearing the footsteps gaining up he sighed, muttering under his breath as he did so.

"About fucking time..."

Just as he saw Francis behind him he saw the man lunge for his middle, without having a chance to dodge the attack, he felt the wind knocked out of him as his back and head connected with the wet pavement.

A fist was brought down hard. It was followed by another.

"I. Have. Had. It!"

He shifted, pinning the man down underneath his weight as he punched once more. When he wanted to be, he was pretty efficient and swift with his fists. Nick felt a tooth come loose somewhere in the back of his jaw, and he felt blood running down his throat as his head whipped to the side, then the other as the pummeling continued.

Struggling against the heavier man, he tried to retaliate.

"Think you're god damned perfect! You're _shit!"_

Punch, punch-

He was hauled off then, staggering back.

"Get the fuck off him!"

The three guys had caught up to Francis and they each had a good chance to punch him. It wasn't long before one of them met with pavement as Francis hauled off and retaliated.

"I'm _busy!" __Fuckers interrupting business..._

Rolling onto his side, Nick spit out the blood, coughing. Groaning, he carefully crawled back up to his feet, wiping his face clear of any blood or dirt from the ground and added his fist to the flurry of those left attacking Francis.

"I fucking help you and you fucking attack _me?"_He yelled at him.

Francis staggered a bit, the flurry of fists finally starting to catch up. He shoved another away, kicking him as he went down. Managing to block another's fist momentarily, he spat out some blood before bringing back his elbow, trying to connect with Nick. He didn't really hear much what his partner had said, rage deafening anything other than the sound of fists, feet and bone. Drawing away to avoid the elbow, Nick paused as the sight of blue and red flashing lights caught his attention. He turned to dash, pausing as he gave a moment's thought to Francis and if he should leave the asshole to be arrested.

Cursing loudly, he ran back over. "Cops are here, fuck off and let's go!"

Giving one last punch, dropping a man into unconsciousness he looked over at the lights, cursing.

He staggered a bit more, liquor having hit him a bit ago. He pressed his palm to his head while turned towards Nick before starting to run towards the other end of the alley. Keeping a few paces ahead of Francis, he lead the way through alleyways and city blocks until he was sure they had lost them in the haze of the rain. Still leading them on a little longer, Nick finally turned back to Francis.

"The fuck was that about back there?"

Now he was wiping the blood and rain away from his face.

"You!" He swiftly jabbed Nick's chest before continuing to walk on. Rain felt nice, though it stung like hell.

"Thinking you're better than shit!" he spat.

"Maybe 'cause I am?" He retorted, walking beside Francis as he rubbed the back of his neck with annoyance.

"Fuck Francis, that's the fifteenth damn bar you've gotten us kicked out of! We're running out of places to grab a drink!"

He gave Nick a slight shove before shrugging.

He was starting to wind down now that the adrenaline was leaving his body, being replaced with the swim of liquor.

"We've got another twenty." he replied with instead.

"Yeah but if you keep that up we won't for long." He grumbled, pulling out a cigarette and attempting to light it several times before giving up with an angry snarl.

"I fucking hate rain!" He cursed.

"Join the club, pansy. At least it doesn't ruin my clothes." He groused, looking over at Nick.

"Explain that to me, exactly _how_am I pansy? And besides, I prefer looking good to looking like...something the cat dragged in."

"I just said it! Real men don't wear clothes that get ruined in the fucking rain. And they don't worry about mud, either. Fuck you're stupid."

He shook his head before pausing.

"Hear that?" he asked.

About to bite back, he grumbled but slowed down and tilted his head.

"Hear what?"

"Thought I heard sirens. Think they're still searching?" He asked.

_Surely the pigs have something more fucking important._

"Fucking hope not." He checked his watch and grumbled.

_Beth is either going to be fucking pissed I'm not home, or happy because she'll get more boy toy time in._

"We should soon split up."

"Right. You gotta make sure your wife's fucktoy is out of there before you stick it."

On a more serious note, he nodded.

"Meet up on Gregson?" he asked for tomorrow.

Choosing to ignore the barb, he nodded.

"Yeah," he looked around for a moment. "Later." Turning down a street, he pulled out his phone, giving her a call.

"Whatever."

He watched Nick for a moment in the rain before turning and heading down another way. He knew this city like the back of his hand.


	2. Chapter 2

_Note: Vulgar language warning (C'mon it's Francis and Nick; it'd be weird for them not to curse up a storm.) Also, some of the words in this are words that the characters use that we felt they would, not words that reflect our own opinions._

_There will be sex in this, but it won't be posted here, if anyone will want to see it in later chapters, ask me about it and I'll see about posting my Y!Gallery name or something._

_Lastly! This is Pre- Infection Nick and Francis, explaining their time in prison and how they knew each other and interacted._

_Hope you enjoy chapter 2. I want to apologize for the slightly bad way they're arrested; it's a bridge we had to cross in order to get them into prison, which is where this RP was supposed to take place._

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><p>The next night, Francis found himself pressing his boot down on some guy's hand; another message needing delivered from Hell's Legion. He bent down, elbow on his knee, putting even more pressure down on the hand under his foot.<p>

"My friend here really doesn't like it when you insult his mother. Makes him go crazy." He grinned. "And what's worse? He has me on his payroll. I'm a fucking cop."

Nick suppressed the urge to roll his eyes at Francis's tall tales.

_Seriously, what is it with him and cops? _He grumbled to himself. _Must be some fucking kink or something._

"Listen, just pay up next time instead of trying to be some hero, okay?" Nick explained, leaning down to face level with the guy.

"After all, we both know what happens with heroes." He grinned. "They end up pushing up flowers."

The man gave a nod as he tried to get his hand free still. Francis shook his head.

"I don't think he gets it. Do you?" he asked, pressing down just a smidgen more. For all he knew, the man's hand was already fractured.

Or worse.

Nick looked back up at Francis, wondering not for the first time why on earth he was always stuck with this man Looking back at the guy he raised an eyebrow.

"Oh I don't know, I think he got it. Haven't you? After all, we know where you work, where you live, and what a lovely wife you've got." He explained dangerously.

"Oh man... Fuck, I forgot about her." Francis looked away for a moment, giving a slow smirk as he heard from below.

"Please leave her out of this. She doesn't have to know!"

_I love my job._

Finally standing up and taking his foot off the man's hand, he gave a swift kick to his side. Standing back up, Nick straightened the lapel on his suit and lit up a cigarette.

"You always do that." Francis spoke, watching Nick light up the smoke.

He turned away from their most recent 'customer.'

"I know it's good but it's not _that _good."

Looking at the cigarette in his hand as he puffed out the smoke he shrugged, pocketing the lighter.

"I enjoy it, man's allowed to have his vices."

"Better vices out there." he attested. "Booze..." he counted on his fingers, "Women, Booze, and women. Easy."

"Hangovers, headaches, headaches and bitches." He replied back, ticking them off on his fingers.

Francis considered this for a moment before giving a nod in agreement.

"Mmm... True, true... but the bitches moan nicely. And most of them are _nice_looking. After you get rid of the clothes."

From behind Francis, a frightened voice was heard.

"..Can I go home now?"

Francis turned, scowling.

"Shut _up!" _He gave another kick, a crack heard shortly after.

Nick waved at the man in annoyance. "Stop fucking around man." He took a drag, thinking over what he had said.

"Yeah, okay that _is _a bonus at least."

"All they're good for anyways."

It wasn't true, he knew it himself. But certain company meant he had to keep up appearances.

"Who's fucking around?" he asked, turning back to Nick.

"Can't exactly live long enough to pay his debts off if you crack all his ribs, now can he?" he replied quietly, looking back over at the guy still on the floor, too frightened to really move.

"I just cracked the one!" He protested. "Man has others that work just fine."

He spat down nearby, having been chewing some tobacco. Nick waved his cigarette at Francis. "That right there is disgusting. _How _you can keep a woman around longer than one night after she sees you do that is beyond me."

"What? They do it too." He walked away from the man on the ground, suddenly plucking Nick's cigarette from his hand and taking a drag.

"..Fuck is this shit? _Vanilla?" _

Nick knew that pretty much anything he'd say in his defense would be met with ridicule. "Gotta have something to cover the taste of your stench."

Cigarette only halfway gone, Francis flicked it down and ground it out with his boot.

"At least I don't smell like a bitch."

"So only bitches understand soap?" He sneered, glancing back over to the guy and giving a flick of his head to let him know to get lost.

When the guy had scurried off, Nick turned back to Francis.

"Fuck, I own soap! I just don't use floral scents."

He began walking; glancing around to make sure no one had seen the 'transaction.'

"I don't either." He replied, but made a note to see if Beth's perfume was lingering on his clothes again.

"Yeah, you do." he snorted, turning back towards Nick.

"Know how I know? You always smell like a fucking _pansy." __HAH! That one's good._

Nick pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to stave off an oncoming headache. "Sometimes I wonder how no earth you can tie your laces in the morning."

"Fuck you." He retort angrily. He was starting to tire of Nick's bullshit.

_Fucker's always gonna feel better than me. _

"New bar opened up." he stated then. "Hear they got a pool table. Feel like hustling?"

The idea was a good one, but with Francis around he was always wary.

"Not going to start any fights, are you?" He asked, but already deciding he might as well. "Where's it at?"

"Down a couple blocks from here. Noticed it yesterday while taking my bike out." He ignored the fight comment for now, scratching his nose.

"Sure, I've got nothing else to do tonight." He decided, letting Francis lead the way.

"How_ is_ your bike?" He asked, remembering him complaining about something or other on it a while back.

"Fine. All fixed and fired up." He replied, looking either way before crossing the street. "Things with Beth okay?" he asked, glancing over to Nick. Seemed like the conversation this time through was going to be a bit more...civil.

Though how long it'd last was debatable.

Nick shrugged.

"Idiot left his fucking socks under the bed, she's getting careless." He replied.

"Disgusting!" He curled up his lip before shaking his head. "Fuck, you think she'd learn. Or he did it on purpose..."

He shrugged, patting himself down for his pack of smokes. "Who the hell knows," He replied, pulling out his own smokes, since Francis had used up and tossed away the one he had lit earlier.

"Starting to think I should cut her loose, but I think I'll do it slowly, cut off her credit first you know? Leave her at some place unable to pay with her boy toy." He grinned maliciously, "After all, I made her sign a fucking prenup."

"Fucking A." He nodded, before finally pulling out his pack of smokes. Quickly getting one out and lit, it hung from his mouth freely while he returned the pack to a different pocket.

"That's how it's done!" he laughed around the smoke before lightly tapping Nick's arm and nodding his head forward.

Two women walked along, arms linked, chatting. Both were dressed to kill and there were no other men in sight.

"Getting close to it now."

He nodded, taking a drag on the cigarette as his eyes traveled up the women walking by them.

"Good, wouldn't mind a good game."

"Keep a watch like usual." Francis stated. As the women walked, the taller man grinned. _Damn those are nice asses. _

"Hey. We're here."

He pointed to the entranceway the two women walked into. Nick looked up at it, taking it in as they entered. _Not bad, not a club but that's fine. It's not a dingy bar that he usually drags me too either. _Off in the back he could see a small archway lit from inside, the sounds of pool ball cracking against each other reached his ears. _Hope I've got some willing ones..._

"What drinks do you want?" he asked. "Buying this time." _Only fair. You're working. _

Either Francis was in a good mood, or he was in a good mood because he'd gotten laid.

"Whiskey, on ice." He didn't think they'd have any good scotch so he'd settle for that instead. Heading into the pool room he leaned against a wall, watching the people playing, checking out for anyone thinking they're good on talent. Francis went off to order while Nick scouted. Right now, the match was between two men, one of the women from earlier watching. She wore tight jeans and an equally tight, but stylish top. Her hair was loose around her face as she laughed while talking to someone.

One of the guys playing grinned over at her while she gave him a little wave. Soon after, he made his shot; the balls cracking loudly as the collided.

_Impressing someone, that's always a good start..._

Watching the game a little longer, he called out that he'd like to play him next, giving a little grin at the woman with him. After considering the well-dressed stranger, the man gave a smirk and a nod.

"Yeah, sure."

The woman raised her eyebrows, a small smile playing on her face. Intrigued. The rest of the audience gave some claps of enthusiasm.

Francis returned two beers in one hand, Nick's whiskey in the other. "Here. How's things?" he asked, glancing around and giving that same woman a grin.

Oh, the woman looked at Francis, but there wasn't a whole lot of interest there. More admiration of the tattoos than anything.

"I start playing him when they finish up this round." He explained, taking the drink with a sip.

Francis took a seat at a nearby table near the pool area, sitting his beers down.

It wasn't long after that, that the game started. Francis always did enjoy watching Nick work. It was an interesting game to see, and not just the pool game. He took a sip of a drink, noticing the woman standing up and excusing herself. He frowned, thinking for a moment while finishing up a beer. There were four empties on his table next to him by now. Standing up, he glanced at Nick to make sure things were going well. They were.

"Heading out for more. Want one?" he asked, keeping an eye on other things. He barely had a buzz going.

Nodding, Nick lined up another shot.

"Another whiskey." He called over.

The game was in its second run, he had already won the first one, and a fifty, this one was going for another fifty spot if he got it. So far the odds were in his favour. Giving a quick thumbs up, he walked back out into the main area of the bar, leaning against it, waiting his turn. His opponent didn't seem too flustered that he'd just lost a fifty.

"Tough looking friend you got there." he commented after Francis had left.

"Yeah well, he's not my friend but hey, not gonna tell him that." He replied with a chuckle, shooting another round.

_Guy seems pretty relaxed for losing close to a hundred in just under an hour. _Nick thought curiously.

_Something's not right here..._

"I hear ya." his opponent replied with a grin and a shake of his head.

"Damn. Missed..." He screwed up his face a bit in disappointment. "Really hoping for that one."

At the bar, Francis was still waiting. Apparently, a lot of other people wanted refills, too. He continued to lean, glancing around the bar.

_Damn, lost her. Ah well._

The conman watched the game, feeling uneasy about the whole thing for reasons he couldn't place. _That was an easy shot. He should have been able to make that._

Nick glanced around, looking for Francis.

_Assclown should have been back by now._

Lining up, Nick kept quiet, looking for the right shot and taking it.

"Yeah. Two more beer and another whiskey on ice." he requested, getting out his wallet.

His opponent stood back, watching. As soon as the shot was successful, he glanced back towards where Francis had exited.

"Hey,"

It was the blonde from earlier, leaning against the bar beside him.

"Your friend's pretty good."

He glanced over, handing the bartender his cash.

"Hey." he smiled. "Ah, he's alright. Too cocky sometimes." He shrugged.

"You with that clown he's against?" he asked.

"Yeah, my boyfriend. He thinks he's this great player and he's really not." She explained with a roll of her eyes.

She smiled at Francis.

"So, you from around here?"

"Here? Nah." he shook his head, turning to head back into the pool area.

"Fuck, sounds like they'd get along. Two assholes who think they're good." He laughed.

She laughed, nodding.

"Nice tattoos, they mean anything?" She asked, eyeing the Hell's Legion sleeve.

"Thanks! Just a group I'm in. Some get it inked, some don't." he replied with vagueness.

"People tend to hire me to get shit done." he shrugged. "Hey, what's your name?" he asked, realizing he didn't know.

"Oh, call me Susan. So what kind of stuff do you get hired for?" She asked, looking really intrigued.

"Francis."

As they walked in, he sat Nick's drink near the man, liking how the game was going before he sat back down in his chair.

"Y'know, this and that. Fuck, me and my partner just finished a job before we came in! Had some debts that needed paying up and he didn't so I had to teach him a thing or two about deadlines."

He chuckled, taking a drink.

"It's pathetic seeing a grown man cry."

"_Really...?_Sounds like you've got quite an exciting life!" She sat down in a chair beside Francis, leaning in close.

"So what'd else have you done." She rested a hand on his leg.

_Nice... _

He shifted in his seat a bit, getting a tad more comfortable. _That'll show Nick. _

Taking another drink of his beer, he grinned, leaning forward a bit to rest his elbows on the table.

"Broke a man's rib today. Last week I fought of four drunken shits and yesterday I face planted a cop for giving me a ticket when I was legally parked."

"Shit you do it all, don't you? Your life sounds a hell of a lot more interesting than Roy's, that's for sure." She grinned.

"This guy with the rib, what'd he do?" She asked, curious.

"What's Roy do?" he asked, a bit curious himself before downing the rest of his beer.

"Tried getting out of the deal he made with my group of associates. Had to rough him up to give him a bit of a taste of what was to come if he actually ran."

'Roy' glanced over at Susan and Francis before making a shot and succeeding. He grinned, looking back at Nick before lining another.

"Oh, he's in sales." She replied, "Nothing fascinating." She explained.

"So these associates of yours? Pretty badass huh?" She asked, getting excited.

She rested her hand on his bicep as she talked.

"Are they called this?" She asked, running her finger over the Hell's Legion name.

"You really like that tattoo, don't you Susan?" he asked, before giving a nod.

"Yeah. So what do you do again?" he asked.

She smiled, reaching into her purse.

"Well, see it's a bit complicated," She explained, looking over to Roy with a low nod.

"Can't be that complicated. You seem smart." He complimented.

Roy looked over, seeing the nod glanced to Nick as he straightened.

"Thank you, that's very kind of you to say." She reached down, taking hold of Francis's wrist.

"But I'm afraid you're under arrest." She slapped a hand cuff across his wrist, grabbing his other hand and yanking it behind his back as she stood up.

Nick looked over, hand tightening on the pool cue.

"Francis what the fuck did you just do?"

"Fuck! I was just talking!" He answered, looking up at Susan sadly.

"Would it help if I said I was a cop?" he asked. "Because I totally am."

Roy moved as well, swiftly cuffing Nick's wrist and pulling it back behind his arm as well.

"Not just him. You're under arrest as well, Nick."

"THE FUCK DID I DO?" He looked behind him at Roy, then whipped around to stare at Francis. "THE FUCK DID YOU SAY?" He felt the cuffs clamp down around his other wrist.

_Great, just what I fucking needed. Maybe I can post bail and get the hell out of here._

"You aren't a cop, and anything you say or do can and will be used against you in a court of law. Not that I don't already have enough to put you away." Susan replied.

Francis thought for a moment.

"So you have to say anything I said in a court of law?" he asked, temporarily ignoring Nick.

Roy answered instead.

"He named you as his partner in a string of assaults. Real bright friend you've got..." he smirked.

"I'll be confiscating my hundred back, by the way. It's evidence."

"Nice try asshole, but anything you say that _could_be used against you will be mentioned. We've already had idiots try that tactic." She pushed him forward towards the exit.

Nick grumbled, staring over at Francis.

_You are dead._

Francis grumbled as they got escorted out of the bar.

"That's what I get for going after a piece of ass you were looking at. Arrested."

He bent down into the car, shimmying over to the side furthest away from Nick. Roy just looked over at Susan.

"Flirted again?" he asked.

She shrugged.

"Gotta do what you gotta do to get confessions." She grinned. "Always works with these kinds."

Nick jabbed his elbow into Francis's ribs.

"You got us arrested because you wanted someone I _smiled_at?"

"Fuck off! She's hot." He retorted, trying to hit Nick back. "Are you telling me you weren't thinking about her?"

He shook his head, laughing as he got in the passenger seat, Susan driving.

"Thinking and fucking doesn't mean spilling your fucking guts to them!" He retorted angrily.

"Jesus is that the only way you get women? Tell them everything about you? Ever hear of keeping your trap shut once in a while or is that just fucking physically impossible for you?"

"She was asking questions! I didn't outright tell her shit! Just that we roughed people up a bit." He replied.

"God, you're such a fucking bitch sometimes, Nick! You're always telling me to talk up myself so that's what I did."

"...You always hear about how partners bicker like old wives but...you just don't expect to hear it." Roy commented, looking over at Susan.

Nick looked over to the front seat.

"Shut up!" Both yelled at their captors.

"I said talk yourself up, not tell them every fucking thing we did!"

"I didn't tell her everything!" He snapped, really getting irritated.

Ahead, Roy just smiled, enjoying this too much.

Turning away from Francis, Nick slammed back into the seat grumbling.

"How much will bail be set at?" He asked the cops ahead of him.

"Couldn't tell you. That's for the Judge to decide." Roy answered as Susan drove on.

Francis looked out of the window before lowering his head a bit in silence.

At the police station, both Francis and Nick were put in separate holding cells.

_So long as he doesn't open his god damned mouth anymore we'll be fine._

While waiting, Francis paced back a bit back and forth before sitting down somewhat comfortably.

A good amount of hours pass before a cop came to collect Francis for questioning. They walked past Nick's cell; the tattooed man so much taller than the cop.

Nick just raised his head, watching Francis walk by. He almost wished he knew the man would be smart enough to keep his trap shut, but knew he wouldn't be.

"Take a seat," The cop indicated the chair, taking a seat himself as he read off a list of charges.

Francis sat down, listening to the list of charges, nodding here and there, giving a laugh at a few of them.

"Ever think those shits deserved it?" he asked the officer.

"No." He replied coldly.

Several hours later saw Nick being escorted to a new room to have his picture taken.

"Your 'friend' has listed you as an accomplice and in some cases, even the leader of it." The officer explained, handing Nick a placard to hold while his picture was taken.

_If I ever see him again I am going to kill him._Nick seethed

After their separate trials, the judge stated there would be no bail posted after the string of charges both men had trailing behind them.

Francis was relaxing in his cell, leaning against the wall. The sleeves of his jumpsuit were rolled up to his shoulders, his tattoos for anyone to see.

"Got a new cellmate for ya Francis, so play nice you two." The warden said, waving over another guard with a man in an orange jumpsuit.

Nick stared into the cell and turned back to the other man.

"I think there's been a mistake, I specifically asked for a cellmate that has two brain cells to rub together."

Francis pushed himself away from the wall, his arms stretched out. Smirking, he cracked his neck this way and that.

You'd think he'd be pissed. He was oddly happy about the whole situation. His smirk widened as the warden replied to Nick.

"No mistake. Get inside the cell." He lightly pushed Nick into the cell.

Holding his bed sheets and pillows for his mattress, Nick stumbled inside the cell.

_Tits..._


	3. Chapter 3

Based on Francis and Nick before infection, but after prison, we've got a little Formspring thing going on if anyone's curious.

.me/OneBadMan

.me/chipsonthetable

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><p>"I get top bunk." Nick groused as he walked further in the cell while the door locked behind him.<p>

There was just something overly-vulnerable about how Nick looked then. Bright orange jumpsuit, holding pure white sheets and pillows.

"I get top bunk." He argued, walking over to Nick.

"Fuck you, you got me into this mess, least you can fucking do is give me that." He retorted, walking over to the bunk.

"No. I fucking claimed that shit." _Wonder how long it'll take him to get grossed out..._ _I didn't even do anything to it._

Nick's hand paused just short of touching the bunk. "Claimed it?" He asked, almost scared of the answer as he turned to face Francis. "How the fuck does someone 'claim' a -" he stopped

_That took him longer than I thought it would. _Francis stayed quiet, now giving Nick a once over.

"Huh. Never thought orange looked so good..."

_You're disgusting. _The conman grimaced, ignoring Francis as he sat his sheets on the bottom mattress, carefully making it up until the sheets were crisp without a wrinkle.

Francis snorted when he saw that.

"No point in doing that, bitch." he grinned before hoisting himself up onto his own bed, lying down, hands behind his head, an ankle propped up on his bent knee.

"Just because I'm in prison doesn't mean I'm going to start living as a slob like you." He retorted. _Move to Vegas, they told me, we've got the perfect guy for you to work with, they told me._ _When I get out of this I am going to find out who paired me with him and break his legs._

"Don't say I didn't warn you..." He trailed on as he shifted onto his side, eyes closed. He was tired; so, he was going to have a nap.

Prison was pretty much what he thought it to be. Schedules, men trying to prove their masculinity and shit food. After a particularly long day, Nick was trying to sleep when he paused, wondering what the hell he was hearing before he gagged and kicked the bed above him.

"Francis stop fucking jerking off, I'm trying to sleep!"

Francis gave a grunt. Apparently that kick helped a bit.

"You wanna help then?" he asked, though already having an idea what the answer would be.

Nick gagged again.

"Fuck no!"

"Then shut the fuck up and be happy I'm not bending you over instead!"

Though in situations like these, he wasn't against it.

_Nick is a pretty good looking cellmate. If it weren't for his god damned attitude._

Fuck, I'm desperate.

"You aren't bending me over fucking anything." He retorted, rolling over with a soft grumble of annoyance. _Of all the fucking people I get stuck with, it's fucking him! If there's a God he fucking hates me_

The next day saw Francis actually doing push ups in their cell. Feeling a bit more energetic that day, he couldn't wait for their hour of 'physical activity.' He gave a grunt every now and then as he pushed himself upwards. Nick sat on his bunk, legs crossed, back against the wall as he flipped through a novel he had gotten from the prison library. He glanced over at Francis, glad that today was showering day. Last thing he wanted was to sit in the cell all day with his sweat and stink.

The sounds of crisp footfalls were heard through the hall as Francis stopped and got back onto his feet in a swift movement, stretching a bit. He walked over to the bars, leaning against them to take a peek.

"Time for some fresh air you two." The guard said, letting them out of their cell.

Placing a bookmark in the novel, Nick stood up, following Francis and the guard out to the yard where another thirty men where already wandering around, talking, playing cards, working out and playing basketball. Nick headed over towards the table of card players; he was getting low on cigarettes. Francis glanced over, taking a peek at the men. For now he'd be fine, he knew that. But, it was always good to look out for your own. Even if you hated the little shit. For now, he went over to where the exercise area was and picked up a dumbbell. Pulling out a smoke from his pants pocket and lighting it up, Nick sat down and started a round of poker with the men. They were various ages and races. Each sized him as they played cards. Various items were tossed on the table; amongst them was a nice cigarette set; a flip lighter and a full pack of smokes. As the round continued, the mood turned sour. Nick was winning too much. Francis paused in his work out, having switched arms. He started walking over, taking the exercise equipment with him. One of the players, another white man threw the cards down and stood up.

"New meat's fuckin' cheating us!"

"I'm not cheating anyone; you're just a lousy player!" He retorted as he pocketed the items he had won calmly. In his pocket, he kept his hand curled around a small knife.

"Fuck I am!" The other three stood up as well, starting to circle around Nick.

"I think it's time we teach this little bitch his place." He smirked. "Boy's got a nice mouth on him..."

Another gave a laugh.

"And he's got those bedroom eyes."

Nick stood up carefully, palming the knife until needed as he watched the four men.

"And I think you guys oughta cut your losses and call it a day." He replied quietly, watching each one as best he could.

There was a small moment before they just ganged up on him.

_Shit._

Francis moved swiftly, keeping the dumbbell in his hand before he saw Nick move and one of the assailants stagger back, clutching his stomach. In another heartbeat, he was next to Nick, keeping an eye on his blind side.

"Fuck, you've got a knife!" he asked, grinning before clobbering another's jaw with his exercise equipment.

_There goes that guy's good smile._

"Had a knife." He retorted, pulling back to crack his fist across the temple of another guy before the guard came over, gun waving in their faces.

_Fuck, all I went through for that little fucking prick of a knife and I lost it in two seconds._

He almost wanted to go over and just pull it out of the asshole.

Back in their cell, the prison on lockdown for a good week while searches were made for more weapons, Nick looked over at Francis.

_Hope we didn't just lose shower privilege to because I am starting to smell._

"Thanks,"

Francis looked over, having decided to finish his 'exercise' time with sit-ups.

"Ehn." He replied as he came back up.

"You had four guys on you. Shit ain't fair." Down he went. A short moment later, he was back up again.  
>"Where the fuck'd you get that knife? Heard they sent Fred to the hospital."<p>

Nick shrugged, deciding he needed to get some exercise in himself. Doing pushups, he looked over at Francis.

"I got to know a guard." Was all he said.

Francis gave a nod, going back down. On his way back up he looked over at Nick. It was strange to see the man doing actual exercise.

_Decent arms. Wouldn't guess it under his monkey suits._

"Can I know this guard?" He asked.

"No."

After several minutes, Nick paused long enough to shed the orange shirt, leaving on the white undershirt instead and went back to push ups.

_"What?" _He asked, scowling as he watched Nick for a few pushups. _Why the fuck does he hides all that under layers of god damned gay clothing?_

He started his sit ups again.

"Why the fuck not? I just saved your ass."

"Because I don't feel like sharing." He retorted.

_"_Fine. Let's see if I save your ass the next time you piss that group of Vipers off." He commented back.

"Oh for fucks sake Francis, I have to tell you everything I fucking do on my time now?" He shot back, pushing himself back onto his haunches, staring over at the other man.

"It'd just be good to know where I could get a knife. That's all." He sat up, shrugging.

"Well after what just happened, I doubt he's going to be handing one over to me again." He replied.

"Means I gotta find a new way to sneak that shit in." He sat down, deciding to do some crunches himself until their evening quick shower.

"Good luck with that." He retorted sarcastically. He glanced over at where Nick placed his book.

"What're you reading?" he asked, words dripping with disgust. Though in truth, he was just curious. Never much of a reader himself, he was always wondering what other people enjoyed reading.

He never did find out why that was.

"Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas." He replied, pausing for a moment as he pulled up, looking over to his bed.

"Oh hey. Saw that in theatres. Pretty good."

A few hours passed before the guard returned, looking in on the two of them.

"I take it you're ready for your showers, boys?" He asked, club resting on his shoulder.

Standing up, Nick made his way to the bars.

Several minutes later and they were both stripping off to shower, the water only lukewarm for a small amount of time that they had to clean up. A few other individuals were in the showers with them, each one only determined on looking at their own bodies while they washed themselves down. Francis scrubbed, seeming on guard and equally at ease at the same time, glancing around. More to keep an eye on the others than for any actual glimpses. As quick as possible, Nick was running the soap over himself and through his hair, making sure no one was intent on getting too close as compared to earlier.

_Well, at least this way I know he's actually bathing_. Nick thought, taking the quickest glance over at Francis.

For a brief moment, Francis shut his eyes so he could wash what hair he had on his head; not wanting soap to run down into his vision. He was broad-shouldered and muscular. Fit and strong, and he knew it. Finished, Nick just took his time now to let the water run over him, enjoying feeling clean for a short period until they'd be allowed to bathe again in three days.

_Fuck...four more years of this._The term seemed impossibly long.

_How does he do it?_ He wondered, thinking back to Francis and the amount of times the older convict had been arrested.

He tilted his head into the water, rubbing himself down once again, rinsing away all the soap, dirt, grime and sweat. Rubbing his neck, he tilted his head upwards again, trying to get a kink out of his neck. Rollin his shoulders, he stepped away from the water, shutting it off. Wiping the water from his face.

"That's better." _Almost._

As the water started to turn icy, Nick quickly moved away from the taps and grabbed a towel from the warden. A thin thing that had seen better days and was scratchy as hell. Drying off as quickly as he bathed, he pulled on his clothing, flicking water from his hair. Francis did the same, taking a bit more time. He grinned over at the warden while putting his own clothes back on.

"Face it. You like this shit."

The warden, for his part, looked disgusted and looked away. Francis only smirked, tying the top of his jumpsuit around his waist, opting to stay in the white undershirt. Nick just rolled his eyes as the guard led them back to the cafeteria to get their meals. Nick stayed on his guard, wary of the others from before that would be there, or those who worked with the guys he and Francis had beat up. The cafeteria was full of other inmates. Some were already sitting down, eating. Others were slowly making their way through the line to get their food.

A few glanced up as the both of them entered. Guards were posted at intervals around the cafeteria. Getting what they could before they were told it was time to leave; Nick wished he could move the line quicker. Sitting down, Francis sat next to him as the pair quickly ate the crap that counted as food.

_When I get out of here, I am going to a five fucking star restaurant._

_God damn it. I fucking hate Tuna Melt Surprise. _Francis stared at the slop in his plate with disgust. _At least, I hope it's Tuna…_

He grimaced as he ate. Even Francis hated the food.

As they sat, he kept an eye out for others wanting to start something.

"Any books on Harleys in the library?" he asked. In all his times in prison, he'd never visited the libraries.

"I don't see why not, they've got a bit of everything." He replied, glancing over.

He noticed a table of men looking over at them, and Nick tensed, hoping he wouldn't have to deal with anything after his only shower for the next three days.

_Routine, confinement, all that shit I can deal with. These fucking clothes and lack of bathing every day and shit food I can't._

Francis gave a nod, thinking he might actually try to find something of interest. Staring at the ceiling all day was starting to become a real bore. See one ceiling, you've seen them all. Disgusting concrete.

"And how do you get a pass?" he asked, glancing over at Nick. The good thing about the conman, he noticed, was how easy it was to read tension in him.

"Like any other library, just get a guard to escort you there during down time and they'll set you up with a library card. You can choose books from the cart that comes around." He replied, looking back over to Francis.

"Huhn..." He grunted. "Simple 'nough."

_Mom says I need to always practice that shit._

What's up?" he asked, now asking about Nick's tense stance.

"Guys at the table, friends of the other assholes?" He asked, nodding his head towards the table.

"Either they want to ask for a dance or they're looking for payback."

He took a quick glance over.

"Maybe. Know the waltz?" he asked, finishing off his food. He'd glanced at him while looking at the guards; peripheral vision was good for times like that.

"I'm more of a tango man myself." He smirked, finishing up his food just as the whistle sounded for them to return to their cells.

"Classy." He retorted, standing up as the whistle sounded.

"Mind if I cut in a few times?" he asked, making his way to the line-up of inmates leaving.

"Not at all, keeps things interesting." He agreed, moving with the line, following the others back up to their cell.

Francis was more than happy with that answer.

"If they try to grope you, they're getting my fist down their fucking throat." he smirked. "That shit doesn't happen during tangos."

He guessed. He didn't dance, so he didn't know.

Nick blinked, wanting to turn and look at Francis to see if he was serious.

_What the fuck am I, his virgin sister?_

"The fuck are you touching me for?" He asked, turning around as he entered their cell, looking up at Francis as he quickly hopped up onto the top bunk.

Back in their cell, Nick sat back on his bed, picking up the novel to read when he heard the call for lights out in ten and grumbled. Francis looked down at Nick, patting his back briefly. To anyone watching, it was a signal. Touch this man and your dead. Francis, happy to be all clean, hopped up into his bed and rolled onto his side, facing the cell. He'd learned early on that a person should never face the wall.

"I'm not your bitch," he finally said after a moment's pause, waiting for the lights to turn out.

"Not yet, and you best hope to get used to the role." He replied, cracking open an eye.

"Prison knows you're 'new meat.' Might as well bend over."

"I'm not anyone's bitch, nor do I plan on being it." He replied dangerously, lying down on his bed as the lights went out.

"Not saying I'll do anything. Just saying be grateful that words going 'round you're my bitch. Otherwise? It's your funeral."

Francis knew it'd take a bit before things took hold. Even then, word might get round that Nick was 'unruly.'

Grumbling, the conman rolled over to get comfortable. _This is going to be the longest four years of my life._

A few days passed. Francis had woken up a bit before Nick for once, wanting to get in on this 'library' thing. The bars opened, allowing Francis exit as they kept his hands cuffed before shutting it once more. Waking up, Nick was glad for some quiet time to himself for once. Making his bed up, he reclined on it, reading his book. A good fifteen minutes later saw Francis' return; book in his hands as he entered the cell once more. Once un-cuffed, he walked over and sat on the floor with ease, book open to begin reading; its cover was obscured as he held it open against the floor. Nick looked over as the guard admitted Francis back to their cell.

"Find a good one?" He asked, trying to make small talk.

"Yup." Was all he answered with as he turned the page. It was a good half-hour to breakfast. Or at least their section's turn for the meal.

The days passed by slowly and Nick started to actually lose count of the time, it wasn't until he noticed the leaves outside changing did he realize he'd been in prison for a solid four months.

"It's fall already? Fuck, hope the rest of the sentence goes this quickly." He commented one day while outside with Francis.

The news had passed quickly about Francis laying claim to Nick despite nothing happening and Nick begrudgingly accepted it.

It was safer that way.


	4. Chapter 4

Again, I'm aware how this is laid out doesn't necessarily reflect how things work (usually) in prison and hope you can all bear with me. Also, sorry for the delay with this chapter. And warnings for foul language.

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><p>The days passed by and Nick started to actually lose count until he noticed the leaves outside changing did he realize he'd been in prison for a solid four months.<p>

"It's fall already? Fuck, hope the rest of the sentence goes this quickly." He commented one day while outside with Francis.

The news had passed quickly about Francis laying claim to Nick despite nothing happening and Nick begrudgingly accepted it.

It was safer that way.

"Funny how that happens." came Francis' retort, glancing over at a group of trees outside the fences.

"What's more surprising is no one's died yet."

Francis had finished his workout; always doing it on the days where he could shower afterwards. Is hair had started to grow out a tad, looking just a bit flyaway and scruffy at once. Made him look a bit younger compared to his usual buzz. He had also learned that it was a good idea to keep near Nick. It kept others at bay.

"Ever read Fight Club?" Francis asked then, looking over at his cellmate.

Nick shook his head.

"No, you have?" He asked, actually surprised, though he knew he shouldn't have since he'd seen Francis actually reading.

"Once, yeah. After seeing the movie. Loved both." he shrugged. "Book was a bit confusing but after a few re-reading of sections, it made sense. Completely different than the movie. Don't ask how. Think they have it in the library."

_Most sentences I've said in a long while without cursing at him or insulting him._

"Fuck you."

Nick just chuckled, looking over at Francis for a moment before shaking his head.

"I'm almost done with my current book, probably look it up after."

He pulled out a cigarette, lighting up and taking a drag.

"At least it doesn't get that cold here." He admitted happily. He'd hate to be cooped up almost all winter.

"Cold enough..." he grimaced, reaching out for a smoke. He didn't pluck the one from Nick's hand; wanting one for himself. Nick held out his pack, letting Francis grab one himself and set his lighter on the table for the man.

"Could be worse, could be New York winters." He amended raking a drag after it was lit, relishing it.

"Don't remind me." He grumbled, bunkering down against a cool breeze. It was October now. Glancing out past the fence, he thought of other Octobers he had in the past. They hadn't been spent in prison for a long time.

"I hope I get pie."

"What?" He asked, finally looking back over to Francis.

"You really think we're getting decent Thanksgiving food in here?" Though he honestly had no idea, but he expected the worst.

"Sometimes if the prison mates act decently, they get store-bought pie as a goodwill gesture." He replied. "And...Thanksgiving is in November, Nick." he pointed out.

"And you call yourself American..." he grumbled.

"I'm aware of that," He retorted.

"Not like we have any idea what day it is in here anyways." He replied.

He took a drag, watching it expel from his lungs. It'd be a lie if he didn't say he wasn't starting to go stir crazy in jail. He'd even resorted to fucking jerking off as quietly as possible when he was sure Francis was asleep, lest he get jabs about it the next morning. Hey, a man's got needs.

"It's October twenty-second." Francis replied with, taking another drag from the cigarette, glancing back at Nick.

Due to the dropping temperatures, Francis had continued to wear his whole orange jumpsuit, the sleeves now rolled up only halfway as compared to fully a few months before.

"How the hell do you know that?" He asked, genuinely curious. "It's not like there's calendars anywhere." Nick's own jumpsuit was tied around his waist, just his white undershirt showing, the orange clad legs hidden by the table.

"I knew the date we were put in here, and kept count?" he retorted, actually looking at Nick like it was the simplest thing in the world.

Nick raised an eyebrow. "Didn't know you were that good at keeping date." He replied honestly, a roundabout way of complimenting the man.

Francis shrugged, tapping the ashes from his smoke.

"Best not to keep a calendar for evidence purposes." he responded. Though, he knew the fallacy of it when it came to his drunken mouth spouting off details.

"Suppose so."

Time outside passed by relatively quiet, as had the last few months, though originally putting Nick on edge he became more so when Fred had returned from the hospital, fully healed a week prior. A few more days passed without incident, during a particular rainy few days, Nick was wandering about inside the main walkabout area when he noticed some guys' playing cards. Just with how he had things set up with Francis, he told the larger man he was going to go play some.

"Don't worry; I'll let them win a few rounds."

Francis seemed to give some serious thought to this. It'd been a decent chunk in time; and he was sure that despite Fred's return, things would stay as such.

"Fine. If something happens, yell." He stated, poking Nick's chest lightly. _It'll be nice not to look out for him all the time._

He nodded, heading over. "Hey, mind if I play?"

Eyeing him for a moment, a guy gave a nod.

"Sure... sit and play a few with us. We were just about to start a new round."

A few hands in and Nick was equally a loser and winner in the rounds. He looked up when a new guy joined the table, pausing in his shuffling. It was Fred, and he hoped to God there wouldn't be any incidences. Francis was taking this chance to relax, doing a few arm wrestles for cash and other items.

A few rounds in, and Nick was still on edge, and reasonably so. He could feel people pressing in around their table, just to watch the game, or so he hoped. Fred watched Nick for a moment, not saying anything. He just gestured for the conman to continue. After finally letting himself win a hand he saw Fred nod, giving a dark smirk and he knew something was about to happen. Trying to stand up to move away he felt a sharp pain in his side as hands grabbed him around the shoulders. He managed to yell before he felt his face shoved into the table, fists pummeling across his entire body. Guards shouted from above, though Francis had heard Nick's yell. Swiftly finishing his round, he started to make his way over; though other prisoners made it difficult, getting in his way and throwing other punches. It was near an all-out riot with a lot of men ganging up on Nick.

_Fuck they're gonna kill him! I can't leave him alone for two god damn minutes!_

"Get the _fuck _away from me!" He grabbed the jumpsuit of another convict and threw him straight at the group around Nick.

By the time Francis arrived, Nick was bleeding heavily from his side, his face a mess of blood and bruises as he lay unconscious on the table.

"...Shit." Francis cursed, before finding Fred and managing to pin him down.

"He was _mine!"_He yelled, bringing his fist down on Fred's face, soon followed by another, and another in a flurry.

While doing so, he yelled out. "SOMEONE GET A MEDIC-fucking cocksucking, pussy-whipped cunt-_bitch!" _

After the riot had been broken up and Francis sent back to his cell and Fred to solitary, Nick was rushed away to a hospital. It was a good three months before Nick was brought back to his cell, nearing Christmas with a nice new scar to show for it on his side.

As the cell door slid open, Nick looked up at Francis. He was clean shaven, as compared to the slight scruff he had accumulated the three months in prison before the hospital visit. His hair was back to being cut and he seemed in better spirits.

"Hey,"

He walked inside, listening as the door slid shut behind him. Francis looked up from the floor where he sat, lowering a book as he did so to his lap. His hair had become a bit shaggier, his beard a bit longer. He almost seemed a tad relieved that Nick'd finally returned.

"Hey." He replied, standing. "How was your vacation?"

"Nice, shoulda seen the nurse. She had a nice ass." He walked over to his bunk, settling down on it.

"How've you been in your cell all to yourself?" He asked, trying to make decent small talk instead of bickering right away.

"Boring as shit." he retorted, lifting up the novel. _Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas._

"Reading too much for my fucking good, too. Was she blonde?"

"And all legs," he agreed with a remembering grin.

"You liking it? Kind of fucked up in places but not that bad." He asked, nodding to the book

"Shit's giving me nightmares but I'm not letting this book beat me." He said, standing and marking his spot by dog-earing the page before tossing it up onto his bed.

"Nice." he said with a nod, now a few feet in front of Nick. "...Know what this means?" He asked.

He looked warily at Francis.

"No...What?" He already regretted asking.

He cracked his knuckles, wiggling his fingers a bit afterwards. _That`s better._

"Put that fucker in his place."

He gave a low smirk, nodding. "I couldn't have said it better myself." He rolled his shoulders a bit, frowning when he felt his side pull a little where his scar was.

"So I take it he's been walking around like he owns this shit?" He asked, scratching the still healing scar.

Francis nodded, rubbing his chin a bit. "Been trying to figure out a good time to repay him for his gift. I've been thinking of paralyzing him..."

Nick nodded.

"Wouldn't mind that, but don't want to do anything that'll add years onto our sentence. Last thing I think either of us wants is being here longer than fucking four."

He already knew he was lucky to only get that short a sentence.

_Damn good lawyer, even if I did get convicted._

"I hate lawyers..." he grumbled. "Ruin all my fucking fun." He complained, scowling then.

On another note, Nick looked pretty decent; face shaved and hair slicked back. Made him wish he had managed to smuggle in scissors for his own hair. He rubbed his head, hating its length. Heading back to the bars, Nick let his arms hang outside. Something he rarely did as he checked for security. Seeing himself clean, he left the cell gate and walked over to Francis.

"Here, clean yourself up, you look like a hobo." He handed the man a small black zippered pouch. Inside was a small mirror, scissors, shaving razor and nail clippers.

Curious, he glanced at Nick a bit shadily before zippering it open.

"Shit..." Francis looked over in shock.

"...Thanks..."

_Now what am I going to need to do for you?_

It was highly appreciated, though.

Nick just shrugged. "Heard you saved my ass back there, least I could do." He explained, letting Francis know quite clearly that he now didn't feel like he owed him anything.

"All I have to do is repay the rest of Fred's friends." He uttered darkly while taking out the scissors and mirror, heading over to their sink.

"I'll be right there with you, you can be sure of that." He agreed, reaching over to pick up the book.

He looked to where Francis had earmarked it and read a bit for something to do, since his own book had been taken back.

"I miss anything while I was gone?" He asked.

"A fucking pedo had to get moved to solitary because we all put a beat down on the sick fuck."

He said all this while giving himself a haircut, snipping away here and there, shifting the mirror to see how he was doing.

"...I hate giving myself haircuts..."

"You want some help with that?" It seemed being in the hospital alone for that long had made Nick a bit more sociable than usual.

"I promise not to do a piss poor job." He offered.

_Glad to hear you stuck it to the fucker who enjoyed kids. _

"Had my hands around his neck before they hauled me off. So close to ending the shit's life." Thinking for a moment, he handed Nick the scissors.

"Didn't get in any amount of shit."

"Shame, fuckers like that deserve that shit." He agreed, taking the scissors he began to carefully trim Francis's hair.

Francis stood still as Nick worked, listening for the sound of a guard's footfalls.

"I know… Though really, that right should've gone to Burop." He amended, watching Nick through the small mirror. He may have saved the man's life, but previous experience had taught him a lot. A saved man can still slit your throat. After a few minutes, Nick stood back, handing Francis the scissors.

"There, just like your old self."

Moving back from the man, he sat down on his bed, reaching under his shirt to scratch around the stitches still imbedded in his skin.

"You have any idea how fucking boring hospitals are?" He finally admitted.

"Yeah. Nurses are never as fucking hot as you hope." He retorted, brushing his head to get rid of excess cut hair, and then patting the rest of himself down before starting on his beard.

"They're old, droopy and fucking ugly. ...Though every now and then you get a candy-striper."

"M'm...True." He fell back onto the bed.

"How's your mom doing?" It was pointless conversation, but it was something that helped keep the doldrums away.

He paused, looking at Nick via the mirror.

"Good, good. She's supposed to drop by today." He replied. "I've got her letters stashed under your bed. ..Hope you don't mind."

He snipped and shaved a bit more, cursing out when the razor nipped him a bit. After everything, his beard was back to rights; even a bit more trimmed than usual.

Nick shrugged from his position on the bed. "Nah, not like I was using the space. Keep 'em there, tell her I said hello." He paused, then sat upright.

"Someone's coming, stash the clippers!" He called softly over to Francis.

"..Shit."

He swiftly brushed his face before shoving everything in its pouch and shoving it under Nick's mattress.

"...think they'll notice?" he asked, meaning his haircut and beard.

"If it's who I think it is, he's already aware I've got it." He explained.

The guard stopped in front of their cell.

"Francis, you've got a visitor."

Francis looked from the guard over to Nick; a single eye squinted in thought and confusion.

"..Alright." He said, stepping up to the bars, hands where the guard could see him.

He also took this moment to take a decent look. The man wasn't too old, or definitely too young. A baby-face with slightly curly hair under his hat and dark brown eyes.

He held his hands out to be cuffed.

_This is the guard Nick's sucking off..._

Or more.

He took a peek down at the nametag sewn into the right breast of the shirt.

_Orwenson._

Huh.

Nick didn't even look over, hands beneath his head as he relaxed.

The guard, for his part, cuffed Francis as usual before taking him out to see his visitor.

A decent amount of time passed; before Francis returned with something coveted in his hands. He could be heard insulting other inmates as they hooted and hollered at him before entering his cell. He saw Orwenson walking off in the distance, looking at Nick once the cell door slid closed behind him; a plate in his hands.

And on that plate? Brownies.

Tying his jumpsuit's sleeves around his waist, Nick looked up as Francis entered the cell again.

"Hey, how's your mom doin'?" He asked.

While always making fun of the man's mother, having met her he quickly realized the woman was made of shit tougher than steel and was not to be messed with. And yet, still sweet as sugar.

"She's good, just as I said…" he replied, eyes rising up from Nick's waist.

_What were you doing?_

He had a good idea of what just transpired, and wondered what Nick might be getting in return for his services. A man could be a prisoner's bitch, but a prisoner always belonged to the staff.

He slightly lifted the plate up.

"She brought me brownies."

"Can I have one?" He eyed the paper plate.

"I don't know..." Francis replied, looking down at the so-very-neatly-stacked brownies.

"What were you doing?" he asked, looking back over at Nick.

Nick's outstretched hand froze, he looked up at Francis.

"Why's it matter to you?" He asked carefully, not wanting to give a definitive answer.

"If you want a brownie, you'll tell me." He replied, watching Nick. "Just curious." he added.

Nick scowled, staring at the brownies. They weren't worth it, he told himself. But he remembered how good they tasted the last time he had some and actually debated with himself.

"Okay fine." He crossed his arms, glancing away for a moment.

"I fucked him… There, you happy?"

"Was he good?" He asked, handing over a brownie. Simple as that. Tell Francis what he wanted to know, and he treated you like gold.

Taking the sweet, he bit into it, enjoying the chocolate for a moment.

"Not really." He admitted, almost sadly.

Francis took a brownie, biting into it. Like Nick, he took a moment to savour his mother's baking.

_I fucking love my mom._

"Man..." he said, swallowing his bite. "You're better than that shit. Fucking a god damned guard?" He snorted, biting into the brownie again.

"Hey, he's not fuck ugly." he said around the brownie. 'But he's still a guard. If he was good, then...maybe I'd forgive you for lowering yourself."

"Hey, might not be the worst lay, but at least he gets me shit. Like that knife and that shaving kit." He replied, indicating the spot under his bed before taking another bite.

_Fuck, like he'd figure out how to benefit from the fucking hierarchy around here?_

"Huhn." Francis polished off the brownie in his hand. He offered another to Nick.

In all honesty, there were too many there to be eaten on his own before they went stale. Might as well share 'em. Taking another brownie, Nick happily enjoyed it. A small reprieve from the shit of prison.


End file.
